Newton's First Law of Motion
by Lost In Rotation
Summary: 'He won't be the one to budge this time.' Objects at rest stay at rest. Objects in motion stay in motion. Companion to Newton's Third Law of Motion and Second Law of Thermodynamics. One-shot set after 3.10 (spoilers).


He's barely had time to open the door far enough to catch a glimpse of her face before the words tumble from her mouth, "I slept with Cameron."

He jaw clinches in pure reflex. For a while there, he had dreaded a sentence starting in this exact same manner, spoken from her soft lips. He had thought he would be over it by now. Turns out, he was wrong. Jealousy slides through him like a finely sharpened sword, driving straight into his gut. And here he was, only moments before, thinking that things couldn't get any more uncomfortable between the two of them.

In the time it takes him to open the door the remainder of the way and lean against the door frame, he recalls the name. It does nothing to qualm the jealousy. He remembers walking into Henry's bar and seeing that asshole with his hand on her back, leaning in close and saying things Branch didn't even want to imagine. 'An old friend from law school,' was all that she had said.

That's the thing about old friends, he muses now, sinking further against the door frame for support. He rests his head against the ridges in the wood. Working late. Forgetting drinks. They hadn't even been in a relationship at that point, and still it had felt like the beginning of the end of something.

"In law school. Once," she amends.

A part of him, a large part, wishes she had said this portion of her strange confession earlier. Not that it matters. And yet, it seems to untwist the sword in his gut, if only by the smallest fraction of a turn.

"We'd just finished exams, and he'd convinced me to go out for drinks to celebrate with him. And I had one – or four – drinks too many…" she trails off, because they both know what happened next. After all, it happened between them as well. Hadn't he seen her in Henry's bar, dancing sensually to music? Hadn't he matched her, drink for drink, to catch up? Hadn't they had one – or four – drinks too many and gone back to her place?

The cynical part of him wonders if this pattern is just her normal behavior. If this is how she bags and drops the guys she keeps on the fence.

"Why are you telling me this?" He wants to add the word 'now' to the end of his sentence but refrains. It wouldn't matter the circumstances under which she divulged this particular information. It didn't seem like there would ever be a need to admit to something so far in the past, before they had even met.

She can't look him in the eye now. She was only just managing to dart glances at him the moment before. "Before he left, after Henry's trial wrapped up and I declined to work your father's," she pauses here. Only for a brief moment, but he still catches her hesitation, "case, we went out for drinks. To celebrate the victory."

Again, it sounds familiar. It reminds him of when they finally got their rain checked drinks, to celebrate Cady's success at the beginning of Henry's case. When he'd written her the check for $100,000 that he hadn't had to think twice about. He hopes there's a point to this story, to this visit of hers in general. But at the same time, if there is one, he has the nagging sensation that he isn't going to like it.

"And it would have been so easy to just give him what he wanted. He even confessed that his feelings for me had never changed, not in all those years. And it could have been simple, with no strings attached, with no outside factors getting in the way. Not like…" her eyes dart up to his, then fixate on the door handle he still holds in his grip. She doesn't finish this sentence either, and again she doesn't need to.

"But all I could do was look at him and see you." She definitely can't meet his eye now, even though his gaze searches for hers.

He tallies the time in his head. Even pauses to recalculate, feeling for sure he must have counted wrong the first time. But he hadn't. It's been two months. Two months since they've talked to each other. Two months since the last time she showed up at his front door in a similar fashion, though without the painful truths. It's hard to believe his father trial has been going on for almost a month now. Even harder to believe it isn't over already, that Barlow Connally isn't locked up in a maximum security state prison waiting to rot out the rest of his miserable days.

They've seen each other in the courtroom five times a day for three weeks now, sitting only a few seats or rows away from each other. There have been plenty of opportunities to talk about the fact that he had woken up slightly buzzed and completely alone, and that she hasn't tried to say a single word to him since then. And yet everything still hangs precariously between them, looming like a dark cloud above their heads.

"And then last night," she continues, as if she hasn't given him enough to think about already, "I sat at the bar, and I let Henry pour me drink after drink after drink. Because Cameron texted to say he was potentially making a trip out to Yellowstone with his sister, and that perhaps he could stop by for a few days before he headed back to the city. And something inside me just seemed to snap.

"You know how there's never anyone in town that isn't local? We just aren't known for our tourism here." She lets out a soft chuckle. "But there was this guy in the bar last night, just stopping over for the night before continuing his way out west. And he just happened to sit down at the bar next to me. And we just happened to start talking. And then one thing led to another-"

"Cady." He finally stops her here, his throat a solid lump in his neck.

"Just let me finish," she says with a snap to her tone. It's been a while since she's talked to him at all, but it's been even longer since she's talked to him like that. It gives him pause, which gives her the in she needs to barrel on. "I got all the way back to his hotel room before I realized I couldn't go through with it. Because when he opened the car door for me, again all I could picture was you."

Her right thumb picks nervously at the cuticle of her left thumb. "I don't know where we stand anymore, Branch, but I know that I can't move on until I do."

He wishes she had just come in and sat down on his couch again. It had been so much simpler that way.

"What do you want from me, Cady?"

She runs a hand through her messy hair. He watches the way she rocks back on the heels of her feet, trying to put a little more space between them without stepping away. He can tell just by looking at her that she doesn't know what she wants. He knows what he wants. Has known since the day she strolled back into town, no longer the goofy teenaged daughter of the sheriff, just a beautiful, remarkable, exotic woman giving up her life to help her father. He'd loved her instantly, but he'd never told her. Not in so many words. It seemed easier not to, especially when she always seemed to hold him at arm's length.

He's always been the one chasing after her, but no more. Sure, he's haunted by her just as much as he's seemed to have left an impression on her. But now she's the one who keeps coming back to him, and he still isn't sure if he needs distance or not. She had never been a steady rock, but he'd found himself grounded in her in the short time they'd seemed to make it work. But everything after that had been one mistake after another, one miscommunication followed by the next. Everything left unspoken and left to wait while the world made chaos around them.

He won't be the one to budge this time. For once in her life, he's going to get her to be the one who tells him where they stand, what she wants to be. And then, no matter what, he won't ask for more. He's done taking things from the Longmires. His family's done enough of that for one lifetime.

"I… I don't know." She stumbles over the words.

"Need I remind you, you are the one who called it off originally."

Of course she knows. There's no way she could forget sitting at the foot of the hotel bed, draped in the sheets, telling him that it was over. There's no way she could have possibly forgotten that he'd been the one to say that he didn't want it to be over, whatever it was that they had.

He wishes they didn't have to be Branch Connally and Cady Longmire. If only it could be just Branch and Cady, without dragging their families into it. It had been their families from the start that had driven the wedge between them. Branch running against Walt for sheriff, Walt not able to handle the fact that his deputy had business with his daughter. He should have known better than to fall for her in the first place. He had known it would not end well. But Branch had never been one to act the most rationally.

"A lot's changed since then," she finally mumbles.

"For the worst," he cannot help but point out. "You found out your mother didn't die of cancer. You almost died. I almost died. Twice. I shot my father. Henry almost got convicted of murder."

"Yes, the past year has been complete shit. But when I almost died, you brought me a teddy bear. You sat by the side of my bed until my father kicked you out. You're no longer running against my father in the election. And you survived almost getting killed. Twice. You helped me bail Henry out of jail, Branch. You never once gave up on me.

"I think, after surviving all of that, that we deserve a little happiness. Or at least the chance to try for it."

"Is that really what you want?"

She messes with her hair again, then crosses her arms against her chest to keep from fidgeting.

"Can you honestly say that when you look at me, you don't see my father?"

She finally meets his gaze, though now he's having difficulty holding it. He's wondered, these past two months, if that's why she hasn't called, hasn't texted, hasn't even said hello when they passed each other in the hallway or on the street. So he's given her the space he thought she wanted, and let the guilt continue to chew him apart.

"Your father could never hope to be the man you are, Branch. He could never be good enough to deserve a son like you.

"I look at my father, at the pain that's just as fresh on his face now as it was when I first came back. I would do anything, anything, to make that pain go away. But I can't. So I've settled on not making it worse. But my father has come between us for over a year now, and I honestly don't know why I let it. If I'd just been honest with him up front… if I hadn't decided to sneak around and lie… if he hadn't found out the way he had… if I had just been the one to tell him before it escalated, then he would have been able to handle it. He's always seen you as a son, Branch. A work in progress, granted, but you've been a son to him regardless. And he's always respected you, even if he hasn't always agreed with you."

He wants to laugh at the words. He can think of plenty of instances where Walt had been anything but respectful towards Branch, and vice versa. Granted, they almost all revolved around the election or Cady.

"I want to give this a shot. For real. I want to actually date you, so we can see where it can go, instead of just tip-toeing around each other like we have been. And I know the timing is terrible, but it seems like timing is never going to be good around here anymore. This county just sinks deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole with each new day. But if we're going to forever descend into darkness, I'd like to fall forever with you. If it's not too late."

He could tell her that of course it's not too late. For him, it would never be too late. But he doesn't. He could tell her that the hope of hearing her say those words was the only thing that held him to his sanity when he truly began to doubt himself when everyone else was convinced David Ridges was dead. He could tell her of all the future versions of his life his mind had dreamed up while he'd been in the hospital, and how each and every version had included her.

He doesn't say anything of these things to her.

He might. One day. Just not today.

Today, he'll just let her speak. He knows his days of chasing Cady Longmire are far from over.

But at least now, again, he has hope.


End file.
